Mobile AfroSemitic Holyplace
by Mockster
Summary: A rolling Mastaba dragged by 4,077 slaves lumbers to Poker to park for the Sed festival of Pharaoh Shemanira Pehettyra. Voice-Offerings at Ha'enre's tomb bring him back to earth. And Various Hilarity. Finished. Now back to your regularly scheduled KbN :)
1. To Poker, To Poker

"He's really quite spry, for someone his age."  
  
"Enduringly and repeatedly,"  
  
"And repeatedly... and repeatedly... and repeatedly..."  
  
Thus wound the conversation between the two royal physicians as they watched their pharaoh wind his own way back and forth between the boundary stones of his first Sed festival, marking the tenth regnal year under the person of the Lord of the Two Lands Shemanira, son of Ra Pehettyra, given Life, Stability and Dominion like Ra.  
  
Lord of the Two Lands Shemanira, son of Ra Pehettyra was the name of the current Pharaoh, of course, whose wisps of remaining white hair were blowing in the gentle Nile breeze as he huffed and puffed his way between the boundary stones. His name roughly translated to "The Strength of Ra is in the South."  
  
Everybody knew this Pharaoh was a southerner, if nothing else because of his southern Egyptian accent and his nearly hyper-religous ways. He even had his own religious center, built on a mastaba which could be easily transported across the sands by just over four thousand slaves, earning itself the title of the Mastaba Accompanying the Son of Horus with Four Thousand and Seventy Seven slaves, or, you guessed it, the M*A*S*H 4077.  
  
The M*A*S*H 4077 was parked, for the time, in the land of Poker, the Royal town of the dead. Shemanira Pehettyra was, as we have seen, running the course of the Sed festival, his two physicians looking on intently over their martinis.  
  
His two physicians were men named Aamaat and Henequet, whose names, respectively, meant "Great Truth" and "Beer." Aamaat's father had named him after a phrase on the temple of old King Djoser, the only inscription he had ever read. Henequet's father was a drunkard, also named Henequet, and had passed along both his name and his hobby to his son, who had become a scribe and a physician nonetheless.  
  
Merikaye, the priest, was purifying himself in the river. He was called Merikaye, "Beloved of Two Kas," because, while technically a Wab-priest, he could conduct services as a Hem-netur-priest, as well. He was very versatile.  
  
The Pharaoh's head Visier, Purenes, looked upon the Wab/Hem-Netur Priest with disgust mingled with teeming envy. His family name, "House of the Man," showed his hereditary ideal: to own his own house with over thirty thousand slaves. He'd already completed this mission in life, and should have been content, but he couldn't help it: how nice it would be to have a thirty five thousand slave house AND two Kas...  
  
"It's disGUSTing," Purenes had complained to Aamaat and Henequet earlier, while they were lounging by the Sed-court. "That two-souled freak, repeating the voice-offerings over and over again for that near-sighted scribe to memorize."  
  
"Look, Feneka," Aamaat retorted, using the nickname "Nose Ka" that they'd pinned on Purenes from early on in their stint here on the Pharaoh's Mastaba, "What are voice-offerings for, except to be repeated over and over again?"  
  
"Oh, yeah," Nose-Ka mused.  
  
"Oh, yeah," Beer mocked, "And how often do we GET to Poker, anyhow, Feneka?"  
  
Nose-Ka turned on a heel, "Well, we're never going to get there at this rate!" he huffed, and went off to go beat some of the slaves into dragging the Mastaba faster across the sands.  
  
Beer and Great-Truth looked at one another. "Poor Reder," Beer spoke, and Great-Truth nodded, getting up to pace the surface of the slowly moving mastaba. They were speaking of Reder, the Pharaoh's Scribe, whose name signified nothing in particular and several things all at once, some on the Mastaba maintaining that it meant something like "The One Who Informs," others thinking that it had something to do with his two little feet, which, as Aamaat had once said, was incidentally his height. Others who wished to make fun of the short scribe attested to his name deriving from an excuse that he was "Still Growing." All recognized the significant presence of the R of futurity in the Scribe's name, as he would sometimes inscribe temples with events still years off in the future.  
  
"Yeah," Great-Truth continued, looking down at the close-spaced tracks of the man as he'd gone ahead to run across the sands to Poker. "Ten years tonight since we buried our fearless leader. They really were fond of one another."  
  
Despite "Feneka" Purenes' anticipation of their not arriving in time for the festival, they certainly did, and the 4077 slaves sat down panting and eating their gruel while Merikaye purified the Sed-grounds and then went to purify himself while the Pharaoh ran the boundary stones.  
  
Which brings us back to the beginning of the tale, and Aamaat's comment to Henequet concerning the spry nature of their new leader on the tenth anniversary of his accession to the throne of upper and lower Egypt.  
  
The physicians sipped their martinis.  
  
"Finest Kind," Aamaat spoke.  
  
"Sweeter than anything in the two lands," agreed Henequet. 


	2. An Offering Which the Scribe Gives

Meanwhile:  
  
Reder had scoured the city of Poker since before the arrival and parking of the Mobile-Mastaba, and he had finally found it.  
  
The Funerary Complex of The Lord of The Two Lands Ha'enre (Looks like Ra), Son of Ra Ibkare (The Heart of Ra's Soul), Justified in His Voice (Egyptianese for "Dead"), the old Pharaoh and Lord of the Two Lands Shemanira's predecessor.  
  
Reder found the offering niche and the false door on the eastern side of the temple, and, thankfully, a handy-dandy little guide to the voice- offering, which he had nearly forgotten by now, despite Two-Ka's assiduous instruction while on route there.  
  
He knelt, and, with a jar of unguents in each hand, began to speak:  
  
"I repeated favor before the king, a true king's advisor beloved of him who does what the king favors during the course of every day. I have come from my town, I have descended from my district, I am one who says what is good, and what the director of the king's advisors loves. I do not denounce a man to his superior, I do not command a beating for a man of mine. I have fed the hungry, clothed the naked, ferried the boatless in my own bark. The king's sole companion, his true servant of his affection, one foremost of position in the house of his lord, an official great of his heart, one who knows the desire of his lord, one who follows him on all his journeys. The master of secrets of Amun-Ra in any place of his, His person assigned to me a great seal in pure amethyst, and advanced my heart more than my forefathers who existed before me. I conducted the great procession, following the god at his travels: I cleared the ways of the god to him tomb at the forefront of Poker, that I may give him:"  
  
Reder took a breath.  
  
"An offering which the king gives to Osiris, lord of Abydos, great god of the West who is on all his god and pure thrones, that he might give a voice- offering of bread and beer, ox and fowl, alabaster and linen: all things good and pure on which a god might live for the Ka of the Lord of the Two Lands Ha'enre Son of Ra Ibkare, beloved of the gods, justified in his voice."  
  
"An offering which the king gives to Anubis, who is on his mountain, who is in Wet, that he might give a voice-offering of a thousand of bread and beer, a thousand of ox and fowl, a thousand of incense and unguents on which a god might live for the Ka of the revered one before the Great God, Lord of the Two Lands Ha'enre Son of Ra Ibkare, justified in his voice."  
  
"An offering which the king gives to Wepwawet, lord of the sacred land, that he might give a voice-offering of the required offerings: thousands of bread and beer and everything good and pure on which a god lives at the month-festival, at the half-month festival, the Weg festival and the Thoth festival, and the festival of the god's boat-journey to Poker, for the revered one, Lord of the Two Lands Ha'enre Son of Ra Ibkare, the Great God, justified in his voice."  
  
"An offering which the king gives--"  
  
"Reder--"  
  
"Yes, sir?"  
  
"Can it, will you?"  
  
Reder looked up to find Ha'enre standing cross-armed in the false door, staring down at him. He wasn't cross-armed for any reason of anger or annoyance: nay, rather, he was cross-armed because that's how he happened to be wrapped up after he had died. The mummified ex-pharaoh hopped down onto the offering platform, hopping his only real means for locomotion for the moment. In fact, it was only die to Reder's keen sense of hearing that he was able to make any intelligible sense of the mumblings that were coming through the thick layers of bandages.  
  
"Son of Ra!" Reder exclaimed. "You're alive! I mean, you're back."  
  
"Of course I'm back, sole-companion, chamber-keeper, scribe. You said the voice-offering. And here I am. That's how it works, remember?"  
  
"Merikaye didn't mention that part, Son of Ra."  
  
"Yeah, well... what do you expect from a Wab-priest, anyhow? So, what's the big occasion, ol' Reder, ol' sole-companion?"  
  
"The Lord of the Two Lands Shemanira, son of Ra Pehettyra is getting the LSD like Ra at the Sed-Festival today."  
  
"The SED festival? It's been ten years? No wonder I'm starving... I swear I could eat a THOUSAND of bread and beer and a THOUSAND of ox and fowl.... you know, all that--  
  
"Good and pure stuff on which a god lives, yes sir, Son of Ra, sir."  
  
"Good and pure stuff on which-- yeah, you got it, Reder. Hey. Why's it taken you ten years to come back here and give me voice-offerings, anyway?"  
  
"Oh, gee, Son of Ra, we've been really busy, out conquering the forces of chaos. You know. Spearing at fish and throwing at birds, putting the nine bows under the Pharaoh's feet."  
  
"Mmm... I used to be pretty handy at spearing fish myself, Reder. You remember, don't you? That little spot where the Nile curves just so up near, ah... ah..."  
  
"Cairo, sir?"  
  
"Yeah, that's it... those were the days."  
  
"Ahh, me. Well, anyhow, ups and at'em, sole-companion, I suppose I'd better pay my respects to the new Pharaoh."  
  
"Oh, yes, Son of Ra." Reder hurried to his feet, tucking the pots of unguents under his arms to stand up, then remembering them. "Oh! These are for you."  
  
"Thanks, Reder. Um... Reder?"  
  
"Yes, sir, I'll get some scissors, sir..."  
  
"Get some scissors, will-- thank you, Reder." 


	3. Osiris On Earth

Later:  
  
The Lord of the Two Lands Shemanira, son of Ra Pehettyra was finally resting from his earlier run, resting on the Northern throne, facing north, and having a little bit of a fit about it.  
  
He was telling just about anybody who would listen, which included his two physicians, who were still, as perpetually and enduringly, lounging, about the godless ways of the northerners, which was amusing, as not only both of them were from the north, but so was the Wab/Hem-Netur Priest, who wasn't listening, per se, but was nearby purifying the ceremonial bark upon which the last part of the ceremony would take place.  
  
"Hey Aa," said Beer.  
  
"Hey what?" said Truth.  
  
"Who's that? Coming over with Reder?"  
  
Merikaye wandered over, book of the dead in hand. "Looks like Osiris."  
  
Great Truth shook his head jovially at Two Souls and Beer. "Uh-uh." He grinned.  
  
"Looks like Ra."  
  
"Looks like Ra!" repeated Merikaye, realization flooding his face.  
  
"I'm just getting all the voice-offerings today, aren't I?" Ha'enre chuckled, arriving on the scene followed humbly by his scribe.  
  
"Hey, guys, look who I found!" Reder whispered excitedly.  
  
"Yeah, I saw, Reder. I also saw what a great job somebody did of tearing up the beautiful linen-job I gave him."  
  
"Oh, uh, sorry 'bout that, Aa. It really WAS a great job. So great, in fact, that it was nearly impossible to get out of the ol' Flesh-Eater. I mean, if Reder here hadn't been going through about seventy strains of the voice-offering, I'd never have gotten out in time."  
  
Pharaoh Shemanira, trundling down the stairs from the Northern throne, and about to mount the stairs to the Southern one, which he seemed, in fact, very eager to do, stopped.  
  
"What in the name of Simmering Seth is going on here?"  
  
"Oh," Ha'enre squared his shoulders and tried his best to look official all wrapped in dangling bandages, the Was scepter and Osiris' hook clenched in his hands, Osiris' green cap over his head, and his favorite spearing-at- fish spear strapped to his back.  
  
"I," he proclaimed in his most Egyptian-Deity-esque voice, "Am the Lord of Poker."  
  
Aamaat put on a cheeky little grin. "Ha'enre... you never had anything better than two pair in your life." 


	4. The End Of A Dynasty

Later Still:  
  
Aamaat, Henequet and Ha'enre had modified was-scepters into golf clubs of sorts and were practicing putting into emptied unguent-vessels, Ha'enre having done with the unguents inside the vessels whatever it is that dead- kings-turned-deities do with that sort of offerings.  
  
Unfortunately, the M*A*S*H 4077 didn't happen to have a thousand of bread and beer, a thousand of ox and fowl on board. Which had always been the plus side of voice-offerings: they required less transport.  
  
Ha'enre had eyed Henequet hungrily for a moment after they were introduced, until he was reminded of the Egyptian's disapproval of human sacrifice, at which point he simply shrugged and returned to watching the Sed-festival, remembering his own mounting of the Northern and Southern thrones with fondness.  
  
And just now, Reder came up to Aa's side and hopped up onto a higher register to whisper into his ear.  
  
Aamaat laughed, and called over to the Wab-priest, "Two-souls: How's the purification going?"  
  
"Just fine, Aa. Lord of the Two Land, Son of Ra, Given Life, Stability, and Dominion like Ra: the bark is sterile. Will you board?"  
  
Pehettyra struggled to keep the bulky double-crown balanced on top of his head while he tried to maintain a ceremonious bearing down the stairs, nodding his head in approbation, which didn't help his case with the hats any.  
  
The crowd of doctors, scribe and mummy grew solemn at this last part of the procession, while on the sands 4,077 slaves knelt in supplication. Ra's boat was on the horizon as the Southern Strength of Ra mounted onto the ceremonial boat and was lifted by a special crew of captives.  
  
Ha'enre gave a questioning look to Aamaat, who retunred it with a wink and was evidently trying to stifle a giggle as the bark moved toward the first rest-enclosure. The dead Pharaoh, ex-Horus and current Osiris-on-Summer- Vacation, was confused.  
  
But not for long.  
  
The ceremonial bark slowed as it approached the enclosure. Some of the captive slaves were looking among themselves, their light hyper-northern skin seeming to blush, even from afar.  
  
"What in Ptah's Blazes is the hold-up?!" the Pharaoh demanded.  
  
There was no need to answer. A pair of tiny, beady eyes peeked out of the darkness of the bark-enclosure, followed by a very timid-looking, inexplicably unclothed Nose-Ka.  
  
"Purenes!" Pehettyra exclaimed, "Explain yourself!"  
  
Feneka Purenes whimpered to himself as he dashed out from underneath the enclosure.  
  
"Purenes! You coward!" shrieked an equally unclothed Princess Megeret, peeking out after him, crying out and trying to cover herself up under the raucous laughter of the surgeons and company. Even her father was hiding a guffaw under his stern countenance. Princess Megeret's name translated, officially, to "Lady Silent Canal," though several around the camp preferred the alternate translation: "Rather a Pain."  
  
"You realize, Feneka, this means you'll have to marry her!" Aa called out.  
  
"No! If Nose-Soul marries The Pain," Henequet complained, "He'll be Pharaoh after The Son of Ra Pehettyra."  
  
"The Son of Ra Purenes?" Ha'enre cringed, "Well, there goes MY dynasty, down the drain..."  
  
"Well, I, for one," Aa pronounced, "Am all for it."  
  
The other physician, the Osiris, and the scribe looked at him incredulously.  
  
"As royal physicians," Aa explained to Henequet, "We'll have to mummify him when he dies. It'll be the fastest, easiest mummification ever. No brain."  
  
"Aha..." Henequet smiled, catching the drift. "No heart, either."  
  
"No lips..."  
  
"No chin..."  
  
"No spine..."  
  
"No ..."  
  
The physicians bantered back and forth. Purenes and Megeret hurried to clothe themselves. Ha'enre laughed and clapped his old Scribe Reder affectionately across the back. Pehettyra shook his head and chuckled as he completed his first Sed-festival as Pharaoh of the 4077th Mastaba.  
  
~End~ 


End file.
